Okay, I know I should really be doing my Mass Effect story right now but - yet again - I had this idea and I had to act on it before I forgot. It's like a flood of inspiration so I have to use it up before it goes off - like milk... Anyway, enjoy this because it was a nigthmare but really fun to write :).

EDIT: some minor changes to spelling errors and grammar and the such to make it flow better, nothing you need to worry about because there's no changes to the storyline :).

Stiglitz.

Nobody knew much about Hugo Stiglitz. Of course they knew what everyone else knew; he had massacred thirteen Wermacht officers singlehanded before anyone even raised the alarm, but nobody knew much else.

After being assigned to the Basterds for Operation Kino, Lt. Archie Hicox made it his own personal mission to figure Stiglitz out. Only, he wasn't quite prepared for what he found.

The sharp side of the knife slowly moved along the leather, the 'shing' of the blade comforting the Wermacht Sergeant, Hugo Stiglitz. He sat, silent, and surveyed the people sat around the room. All of the Basterds were a common sight for him, he was so used to working with them that studying them didn't offer him the same interest anymore. However, the newest member of their crew held infinite possibility. Nobody knew anything about Archie Hicox, except that he was a Lieutenant in the British Army and he had been assigned to the mission by Winston Churchill himself.

Hugo studied him, taking in the red-ish glow of his hair in the sunlight streaming through the window. It was odd that he found the Lieutenant so fascinating, but he just couldn't help himself. He took a second from his studies to inspect his knife, deeming it sharp and clean enough before sheathing it and returning his eyes to Hicox. He wasn't expecting to find the Lieutenant's eyes glued to him. He could see that the Brit was studying him, much as he had been only moments ago. Thank god for the small mercies of distraction, had he not decided to inspect his knife he may have been caught at his past-time. That would have been... embarassing.

It wasn't very often that Stiglitz thought of things as embarassing. Disgusting, yes; Disturbing, yes; Painful, yes... but not embarassing. It was a new sensation for him, and altogether rather strange. The fact that he could possibly be embarassed by a fellow soldier, a male no less, was slightly disturbing to the Wermacht Sergeant.

His eyes connected with the Liuetenants, steely blue-gray locked onto vivid green. For a second the world seemed to stop; Aldo's loud and obnoxious voice was muted and uncharacteristically quiet, the sound of Wicki and Donowitz arguing was absent, Ulmer's irritating music faded into the background. Nothing seemed to exist except that colour, nothing could match it; not the evergreens in summer, nor the stem of the most elegant flower.

Hugo shook his head and looked away. Flamboyant and emotional was not his way. He returned to his reserved manner and tried to keep his eyes from Hicox, instead focussing on cleaning his stolen Maschinenpistole Vierzig. Despite all of his efforts, his eyes soon returned to the pale Brit who still sat by the window, picking at the starched gray material of his German officer's uniform. The life of a Hauptsturmführer was not a glamorous one, and the uniform proved it - they may have looked flash but they were as uncomfortable as any plain old Soldat, as uncomfortable as Stiglitz's own.

Stiglitz's eyes drifted across the room to Aldo Raine, also known as 'Aldo The Apache', who was watching him intently. When their eyes met Aldo simply flashed him a smirk and stood, walking through the doors at the end of the room - hopefully he was going to find Donowitz and Wicki, their argument was starting to grate on the Sergeant's nerves. Still he kept up his calm facade and turned his eyes back to the Lieutenant, studying his long thin fingers as they picked at a thread.

Hicox's eyes shot back to Stiglitz, hoping to catch him in his studies, but the Sergeant had anticipated the action and turned his attention back to cleaning the breach of his gun, the oiled cloth a small comfort in his hands. The only time Stiglitz ever felt comfortable enough to study, to watch or simply to sit, was when he was cleaning his weapons. His hands simply could not be still, or he would feel redundant and insecure. Perhaps it was his time in the German Army, faced with their stong regime, that had caused this. Or perhaps it was the fact that he liked his guns. Nobody would ever know, Stiglitz himself did not even know - and even if he did, nobody would dare to ask him for fear of being shot or brutally murdered by Stiglitz's stolen Wermacht Combat Knife.

Stiglitz made a point to keep German weapons, he found they reminded him of home. Holding the cold metal stock, his finger squeezing the trigger on yet another group of Nazi's, Stiglitz felt safe.

"Why do you take such meticulous care of your weapons?"

Stiglitz jumped, startled by Hicox's sudden appearence at his side. He simply shrugged in answer to the question. He didn't feel like taking, he never felt like talking. Yet Hicox was relentless.

"Why do you find so much glory in killing?"

This time Stiglitz did reply, if only to give Hicox something to think about in order to keep him away - or atleast quiet for a while, "I figure that everytime someone dies and it isn't me, my chances of survival go up."

Hicox raised his eyebrow, watching the Sergeant carefully. He took in the careful square of his jaw, the gentle edge to his eyes, the placid expression. He watched as the Sergeant carefully cleaned, finding every speck of dirt, watched those capable hands handle the weapon with ease as he tossed it back and forth.

Hicox realised that he could see the logic in Stiglitz's thinking, and that despite his outward appearence, his actions and his reputation, Stiglitz was a normal person - perhaps slightly sociopathic but otherwise as normal as anyone else sat in that room. Hicox paused to think about this, then realised that the precise reason they were sat in that room was because none of them were normal - they planned to take down Hitler with guerilla warfare, they scalped their enemies, one of them was called 'The Bear Jew'! How was that normal?

And just like that, Hicox was laughing.

"What's so funny?" Stiglitz's eyes were back on the Lieutenant, but his expression had changed, instead of pensive consideration he now looked on with out-and-out confusion.

"I-I just thought that - you're normal b-but then I realised - that none of us are normal." Hicox seemed to find this the funniest thing he had ever heard, Stiglitz couldn't quite comprehend the Lieutenant's reasoning but found a laugh building in his stomach none the less. Perhaps it was stress... Perhaps it was these odd feelings for Hicox... Or perhaps it was because the Lieutenant was behaving so strangely he had to laugh.

Whatever the reasoning, Stiglitz soon found himself laughing along with Hicox, contentment filling him as he gasped for breath.

It was then that Hicox felt he knew Hugo Stiglitz.

Hugo Stiglitz was a normal man. Despite being slightly deranged and having a penchant for death... he was perfect.

I guess you could call this a Pre-Slash. I think there's going to be a sequel featuring the scene in the bar with Hellstrom and Bridget von Hammersmark... either way, keep a watch. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Rate and Review :D.